


Demon Inside My Head

by TrinityThatcher



Category: Magical Diary
Genre: F/M, High school me was very proud of this one TTwTT, Nothing is canon and everything hurts, Old-ass ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5480141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrinityThatcher/pseuds/TrinityThatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>((A ficlet I wrote 10,000 years ago (in the olden days of 2010) to go with a picture I drew on DeviantArt. At first it was just supposed to be "LOL gotta eat ur soul now bye" but then I really got into it and... well, this happened. So, enjoy.))<br/>Mary Sue, the unwilling bride of Professor Grabiner, is approached by her secret lover, Damien, and he has some very important news for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demon Inside My Head

"I'm dying, (M/C)."

The words had hit you like a tidal wave of terror. Dying. Gone, forever, the one person who tried to cross boundaries to be your friend, who went out of his way to teach you the small things about the magical world that no one thought were important, the one person who was open and honest, bore his HEART to you. His magic was failing. He would be gone within a mere month. His soul was just too weak. His demon blood was eating him alive, he said.  
You didn't understand how these things worked; you hadn't frequented White magic class as much as you ought, you figured, and you had only managed to make it to the midpoint of "Channeling Energies For Beginners". You were supposed to start on the chapter about teaching annual plants to sing when they bloomed. You had a lot of things you still wanted to learn, truth be told. Not just about singing plants, but about that potion you'd flubbed in Black magic class, and how to play dodge ball without using your hands, or what accessories went best with fairy wings.  
Nevertheless, you answered his question before he could ask it, without hesitation. He needed a soul. Something bright and alive and full of love and kindness and wonder. You were the only person he could tell, he'd said. You were the only one who loved him. You had such a beautiful soul.

The gym looked so different at night, empty and dark save for the reflection of the moon off the glossy wood court. On any other night, you would have felt excited to have snuck out of your dorms for a private rendezvous. In fact you had, when you'd received his mysterious letter of summons that afternoon; you had wondered what romantic sort of surprise he had in store for you. Would it be like the picnic by the lake? Would you sneak off campus? Perhaps those wings on his back weren't just for show...  
All this spiraled out of your head the very moment you saw him. Even bathed in moonlight, his violet skin was abnormally pale, and he had a tired look in his eyes.  
He'd told you the news so somberly, and though he had barely spoken in a murmur, you could still hear the words echoing in your head, tumbling like foam in waves of water, sloshing and frothing and hitting you with unexpected surges of deep, painful emotion.

You stood as still as your body would allow as he traced flowing lines against your skin with his fingers, coating you in something muddy, smelling strongly of spice and ammonia. The smell alone made your eyes water. While he knelt at your feet, covering them in the murky mixture and spreading salt and ash in swirling patterns on the floor and brushing your toes, you tried to sort though your tumultuous thoughts. Maybe you could back out. It was so much to ask of one person- no, no one should have to ask such a thing, not even of the love of their life. You knew if it were you in his position, you would have stayed quiet. You would have withered into nothing, getting weaker by the day and passing it off as nothing more than a cold. If it were you, you would have rather put it off as long as possible, enjoyed your time with him to the fullest, than put him through the torture of realizing your very real mortality. But he wasn't you. He didn't have the strength to shoulder this by himself. He had already been through so much, pushed through so much with that same cocky smile on his face that you loved so dearly. You couldn't refuse him when he was reaching out to you like this.  
The thought of just having a purpose to someone was all you wanted in life, and you were more than happy to give it to the sweet blue-skinned boy who has been your constant companion and your closest friend in this new and unfamiliar world you'd suddenly been thrust into.  
You knew, of course, in doing this you were betraying the people who cared about you, who WARNED you that nothing good would come from being with Damien; there was no question that what you were agreeing to, what you were about to do, would bring the end of you existence. What would your friends, your teachers, your (accidental) husband think...? You tried to push that out of your head; nothing is more important to you than helping Damien. Right then, he needed you.

You tried as hard as you could to push away thoughts of the people you would be leaving behind as he stood at the circle's edge, chanting something quickly under his breath. Ellen was such a good, sweet girl, you loved her so much. And Virginia... she was a handful, and you didn't always see eye to eye, but she was still your friend. There was Donald, that joker who made your detentions bearable, and Luke and Logan... poor Minnie, she would have to take over class government all on her own... Professor Potsdam, if she could see you, would be so disappointed with you...  
As your thoughts tumbled, you naturally ended up at Professor Grabiner. Professor Grabiner, that nasty man and his upturned nose, his haughty way of speaking, his overall disgust with you and everything you did that might even remotely be considered childish. The grumpy old bastard you were forced into marriage with over HIS mistakes and YOUR heroism. You quietly cursed your benignant soul for pushing past your rational thought any time danger presented itself. Perhaps if your heart were just a little harder, you would be free, a normal teenager without a care in the world, not married to a man who didn't love her and and not about to give her soul away.

Not that marriage to the professor was all that horrible, you admitted. He didn't ask anything of you. If anything, he had been trying to treat you less like a child and more like a competent human being.  
When you really thought about it, all the people you thought you disliked weren't so bad. They had their problems and their quirks, but then, so did you. Grabiner was no different. He treated you like a teacher should treat his student; perhaps it was years of having to reteach simple lessons and saving students from easily avoidable mistakes that caused him to have such a grumpy disposition.  
You tried so hard to think of all the things you disliked about the man you were forced to marry; after all, it was DAMIEN you loved, who loved you, who you were willingly with. Grabiner wasn't supposed to happen. And from the way he treated you, he disliked the arrangement more than anyone involved.  
You tried so, so hard to dislike him. You had nothing but your kind heart to blame for the fact that you couldn't. You couldn't dislike his cruel sense of humor, or the way his nose crinkled when you told a particularly ironic joke, or how easily he could overlook the fact that you knew nothing of his world, and worked with you, walked side by side with you, never judged you for your lack of knowledge. You knew that, no matter how hard you tried, you would never be able to hate him.  
But now was not the time to bring up such sentiments.

Damien straightened up, brushing salt and ash from his hands to his robes, and reached into his wand belt at his side. From a pocket next to the latch holding his wand, he pulled out a small switchblade knife, his expression clouded.  
"It's not too late to turn back." his voice wavered, though his hand was steady and he gripped the blade tightly in his fingers. "It won't start until you draw the blood and say the incantation. You can stop right now if you want. I'm... not gonna hold it against you..."  
He glanced down at his feet, and you felt a new surge of sorrow in your chest.  
"No. I won't give you up." You proclaimed resolutely, reaching across the symbols on the floor and grabbing the small knife from his hands.

You'd never cut yourself before, not on purpose. In your rush of righteousness you'd swiped the blade across your palm, but to no avail; a thin white line rose from your flushed skin, then started to fade. The cold of the blade almost made a shiver run through you.  
The absolute reality of your situation dawned on you in that moment, harder and more suffocating than when you had been stewing it over only minutes ago. You were going to die. You were going to disappear into nothingness. You would save the life of a boy you loved dearly, but you doubted you would be awake long enough to see him heal, to see him receive your life energy and revive his weakening body.  
You couldn't turn back. You were so, so scared.

With a slightly trembling hand, you pressed the edge of the blade harder against your palm, curling your fingers around the knife. It was cold and it stung, worse than when you accidentally burnt yourself on a cast iron pot handle in potions class and bled for weeks. You closed your eyes and squeezed tighter, waiting for the blade to break your skin.  
"I o-offer to you the essence of my spirit..."

As you try to push the words of the incantation past your dry lips, you feel something poking at the back of your head.

_"(MC)... don't do this."_

It was just a tiny voice, like a tickle to the back of your conscious. It reminded you of Christmas time, when you had closed you eyes and reached out into the dark, not expecting anything, but for the briefest of moments someone brushed against your fingers, acknowledging you.  
You shook your head, trying to ignore it.

"I offer you the essence of my spirit, freely and unconditionally-"

You heard the voice again, a little louder, a little more solid, rich and sultry. It was admonishing you.

_"You foolish girl. Don't waste such a precious thing."_

Your tightly clenched hand loosened ever so slightly; you were ready to give your soul away. You had prepared yourself for what was to come. All this time you had been sitting, waiting, running through all the reasons why no one would miss you and this was the best thing you could do with your life. Why now...?  
Damien frowned, leaning over the carefully placed swirls and symbols to examine your features. "(M/C)? What are you doing? What's wrong...?"  
His hands reached out and clasped your own, and you could feel his fist tighten over the one holding the knife blade. "Don't be scared, (M/C). I love you so much. You can do this. Please. I  _need_ you. I'll  _die_  without you."  
You opened your mouth to speak, keep reciting, say anything, but your tongue felt dry and limp. You opened your eyes, hoping beyond hope that the boy in front of you could see how scared you were, how much you didn't want this...  
His violet eyes bore into yours, solid and determined. He was more sure of this than you were, and you got the feeling that at this point, he really didn't care what you wanted anymore.  
"Come on... it's just a tiny cut, my love..."  
Terror washed over you; you could feel the beginnings of tears sting the corners of your eyes. The voice in your head huffed in contempt.

 _"You are too young, and too kind-hearted. Do not let a man who cannot value you take you away. Have you forgotten that you are_ _ **mine?**_ _"_  the voice finished with a growl.

No matter how you tried to form your words, you felt like there was a pair of hands covering your mouth, preventing you from uttering the very things that would make you leave this world for good. You were choking on the sudden feeling that there was someone who wanted to protect you, and someone who wanted you gone, and it wasn't the same people you thought it was a minute ago. Staring into the cold eyes of the man you loved, and thinking of the man who you had thought you didn't, you couldn't tell who the demon was anymore.


End file.
